


The Kept

by silver_ring5



Series: The Kept [1]
Category: AU - Fandom, Arashi (Band), Japanese Actor RPF
Genre: AU, F/M, Japanese actors/actresses, The Kept
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 12:43:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_ring5/pseuds/silver_ring5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nagasawa Masami is a mid-class slave serving in the Kobayashi-Osamu Group on behalf of an unpaid familial debt. One day she is chosen to be given a reward-- a reward in the form of a rather attractive low-slave by the name of Matsumoto Jun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pretty Things

**Author's Note:**

> Two gangster/mafia families have combined to form the Kobayashi-Osamu Group, and are a massive power in this ambiguous metropolis.They own production companies, television stations, stores, residential buildings and hotels. Instead of sending out leagues of flunkies, etc. to commit crimes or their “business ventures,” the Kobayashi-Osamu Group has developed this indentured servant/slavery-esque system in which they either blackmail an individual into working for them, or they steal children. These modern-day slaves are known as the “Kept.” They are awarded "credits" for their work that can be put towards their freedom but also go to food, housing, clothing, etc. The higher-ranking slaves receive more credits for their contribution to the Group, but are also charged more credits for their lifestyles.
> 
>  
> 
> They are called the Kept because the Kobayashi-Osamu Group uses what appears to outsiders as a regular residential high-rise to house their slaves and conduct most of the low-slave activities. This high-rise is “The Keep,” referencing medieval castles. As alluded above, there are various levels of slaves living at the keep. Low-slaves have very few rights and no freedom. They cannot leave the Keep without a handler and clearances from above. Mid-class slaves have a few more rights, but are still limited and require clearances to travel outside of the Keep. High-level slaves generally hold valued positions that benefit the Kobayashi-Osamu Group-- and are basically guaranteed not to run based on whatever the blackmail might be ( they’d kill a family member, etc.).  
> Note: Higher ranking slaves can “own” lower slaves. They can exchange credits they receive towards a slave, or they can be given one by a group member as a reward or gift.

_The most important thing to remember once in the Keep-- the singular piece of knowledge that is going to lessen the pain and increase your chance of survival is this: Utilize your talents._

 

_Even if you only have one talent, hone it and use it. Make the most important person above you aware of that skill, and continue from there. If you cannot convince someone that you are more than just a body, that is all you will be._

  
_And bodies often turn up in bags at the Keep._

* * *

 

“A gift?” the young woman smiled, but her eyes were cautious. It wasn’t very often her  boss and the public relations’ head Group member, Director Osamu, visited her cubicle and it was difficult to imagine it could be a good thing.  
  
“It’s really more of a reward, Nagasawa-san. Director Osamu visited my office and asked if there was a female employee that I felt merited a reward for her consistent good work and was, perhaps, affiliated with the successful damage-control report for the exterminated mid-slave debacle last month. Both answers were you, Masami Nagasawa.”  
  
It was true that she had written several reports negating The Kobayashi-Osamu Group’s affiliation with the “suicide” of a “former employee”. The story that the public and legitimate law enforcers were fed involved the points that the man was 1) still actively employed and valued by the Group 2) Was left by his wife for a younger man, and finally, 3) had been receiving company-provided counseling with his wife as their marriage was disintegrating. That last point showed that the Group is not only aware of their employees’ feelings, but also actively provides aid so that they can assure their clients and consumers the best product (etc.) possible.  
  
Complete lies -- the man had been a mid-class slave who tried to run, resulting in his “extermination” -- but apparently, the higher-ups liked it.  
  
Director Osamu, a man in his late fifties, cleared his throat and added, “It was a gift for my wife a few years back, but I’ve grown tired of having it around. I wanted to pass it on not only to someone deserving, but also where I wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. I’m so tired of looking at it-- but you’re a young woman. You like pretty things.”  
  
Masami nodded. Girl. Pretty things. Yes.  
  
But what could the director possibly be giving her? Jewelry is pretty, and people grow tired of paintings, but couldn’t he resell either of those things in the outside world? Really, whatever it was, it should be able to be resold outside of the Keep. Maybe it was stolen...  
  
Remembering herself, Masami started to express her gratitude to the director for being so generous, and to her boss, Nagano, for deeming her worthy. Satisfied, Director Osamu gestured he was ready to leave and both men turned to go, but not before the superior added, “I’ll have it delivered to your quarters this afternoon.”  
  
She had wanted to run over to her apartment during lunch to see what her mystery reward was, but Masami hadn’t gotten the chance. The only reason she ate at all was because Erika noticed she wasn’t taking a break and  gave her two onigiri, demanding she eat them.  
  
It had been a long day, rife with the production of falsehoods and the revision of a few corporate policies, but that didn’t stop Masami from being inwardly excited to find out what kind of reward was waiting for her at home. She double-timed it from the business sector of the Keep towards the mid-class residential area.

  
As she opened her door and flicked the light on in the entryway, Masami gasped, surprised by a rather large box laying in front of her. If she hadn’t turned the light on, she would have fallen over it. The box was probably 5x3x3 feet, coming up to her thigh.  
  
“What in the world?” Masami breathed, slipping out of her shoes and letting her purse slump to the floor. Just then she noticed there were grates on the sides of the box and she slapped a worried hand to her mouth.  
  
“Don’t tell me it’s an animal,” her voice was concerned, “He should have told me if it was alive! Poor thing would have been in there for hours now...”  
  
Masami ran to the kitchen to grab scissors from the drawer. Kneeling next to the box, she pursed her lips and made the “sssppss, sssppss, sppsssss” sound before saying softly, “If you’re a kitty, you better stay down from the top. Ma-chan is going to get you out of there now.”  
  
There was a slight rustling that sounded larger than a kitty, and Masami jumped. Whatever it was, it was definitely alive and probably more than ready to be out of that box. Preparing herself to face a restless dog, she sliced the tape with the blade of the scissors and lifted the flaps.  
  
She was not prepared at all for what she found. It was a man.  
  
Masami stifled a surprised yelp, backing away as he unfolded his limbs and started to rise. Coppery brown hair fell forward as he kept his head lowered, stiffly straightening to stand with his feet in the box. Still looking down, he stretched lean, yet muscular arms over his head. He was wearing a fitted black tee with matching, loose cotton pants... and Masami just stared silently, back against the door.  
  
When he did raise his head, she audibly swallowed. Dark eyes met hers, and she quickly glanced down, noticing that his lips were rather full and well-shaped. She first noted the beauty mark delicately dotting his top lip before seeing the second beneath the plush bottom. There was another high on his cheek, but Masami was still staring at his mouth when his tongue ran across the lips quickly before smiling.  
  
She realized she must have been caught staring, so she tried to meet his eyes again while searching her brain for the appropriate thing to say. Her mind was blank, but she managed an “um...” before he cleared his throat.  
  
With grace that should have been impossible for anyone cramped inside a box, he stepped out of it,  took her hand in his, and bowed slightly before her, “My Lady, “ his voice low and melodic, “It is my pleasure to be yours.”  
  
Drawing her knuckles to his lips, he added, “What shall we do now?”  
  
Masami’s eyes widened as his lips brushed across her fingers, soft and warm. When he drew her in against his chest and started lowering his head, she gasped, wriggled free, and placed both of her palms flat against his chest-- pushing until there was a bit of distance between them.  
  
She left her hands there as she found her voice, “Wait a second. I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s going-- “and then she paused mid-sentence as a light went off in her head, “Oh my God, I’ve been given a pleasure slave.”  
  
The smile on the man’s face faltered for a second at the words, but he only replied, “I am whatever My Lady wishes me to be.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Masami dropped her hands to her side, “How about we take this into the living room? We can decide what we wish you to be in there.”  
  
She motioned for him to lead the way out of the entryway into the apartment, shaking her head over the unexpected predicament,  but he only made it a few steps before she noticed that his movements actually were strained and rather stiff. That box that seemed so large a few moments ago now seemed very, very small. Masami noted how  incredibly small it was to have  fit a man inside-- and he’d been in there for so long!  
  
“Oh, you have to be hurting,” she rushed forward and ducked under his left arm, “I wasn’t thinking, but just lean on me. I can’t believe they put you in that box.”  
  
Masami flipped the first lightswitch on the panel, illuminating the living room and dining area. The kitchenette off to the side remained dark. From there she lead him over to the couch, “You can lay down or prop yourself up here. How long were you in there anyway?”  
  
With that question, she turned her head to look at the man and was surprised to find him just staring at her. Somehow, he was now the one with a dazed expression on his face.  
  
“Are you okay?” she asked softly. Those dark eyes fixed on her were starting to make her uncomfortable again.  
  
He blinked a couple times, “Yeah-- I mean, yes. Yes, I’m fine, My Lady. Thank you.”  
  
He eased down on the couch, muscles still making his movements stiff. His voice was unaffected, though. Smooth and velvety, he added, “Have you decided what we’re going to do now, My Lady?”  
  
“Erm, not exactly. We can start with you not calling me that again. Ever.”  
  
“What would you like me to call you?” the man was fairly purring now, and Masami’s heart quickened in response.  
  
“Did they give you my name? It’s Masami Nagasawa. I’m...Well, I guess I’m your, your...” She struggled to finish the sentence.  
“Owner,” the young man supplied, purr gone.  
  
His expression darkened for a moment, and she knew he must resent his position. Pleasure slaves were low-slaves, regarded generally as possessions and playthings among the Group members and some high-slaves. Mid-class slaves, like herself, rarely had low-slaves... and Masami wasn’t sure how they generally treated them. She believed the most popular use was housekeeping, but her new low-slave didn’t look suited for cleaning. He was quite suited for something else... But she wasn’t going to sink so low as to demand a strange slave for favors.  
  
Regardless of how pretty he is.  
  
“Mmhmm,” Masami started, then, dropping to kneel next to the couch, decided to turn the subject away, “What’s your name?”  
  
“You can call me, or name me, whatever you like,” his voice was still low, but had an air of curiosity to it. He wasn’t sure how she would respond.  
  
Masami answered immediately, “Please just tell me.”  
  
“Jun,” he supplied, half whispering.  
  
“Any surname?”  
  
“Yours, now.”  
  
Masami gaped at that a little. It was a strange feeling to know a man was taking her last name. Of course, that would only be for Keep records and life-- not in the real world. She was about to ask him what his real-world last name was, but then thought better of it. They all dreamed of being free, but Masami had yet to hear of it happening to anyone beneath the rank of high-slave-- and it was extraordinarily rare then. The Kobayashi-Osamu Group had a stranglehold on this indentured servant/slave scheme they were running, and there didn’t seem to be a light at the end of the tunnel any time soon.  
  
Right at that moment, they heard Jun’s stomach rumble angrily. Masami felt another pang of guilt as she realized he must be starving.  
  
“Okay Jun,” she said standing up and noticing his slightly sharp intake of breath as she used his name, “You must be half-starved. I’ll make you something to eat, then I’ll give you something for the pain. It’s my fault you were trapped in that box so long-- but I swear I would have come home right away if I knew you were in there. I just don’t understand people sometimes; putting a man in a box.”  
  
The dark eyes were just staring again, so she added, “Try to feel better. Here’s the remote for the T.V. I’ll be right over here if you need anything... Ah, let me get you something to drink before I put the water on to boil. Juice, water, tea? Water?”  
  
And then she scurried away towards the kitchenette, Jun’s eyes following her as she went. Once she was out of his line of vision, he let himself sink into the sofa and gazed at the ceiling.


	2. Aiming to Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nagasawa Masami is a mid-class slave serving in the Kobayashi-Osamu Group on behalf of an unpaid familial debt. One day she is chosen to be given a reward-- a reward in the form of a rather attractive low-slave by the name of Matsumoto Jun.

_The most important thing to remember once in the Keep-- the singular piece of knowledge that is going to lessen the pain and increase your chance of survival is this: Utilize your talents._

 

_Even if you only have one talent, hone it and use it. Make the most important person above you aware of that skill, and continue from there. If you cannot convince someone  that you are more than just a body, that is all you will be._

  
_And bodies often turn up in bags at the Keep._

* * *

 

 

After they ate, Masami ran into the bedroom to throw any random articles of clothes she had out into drawers before coming back to help Jun to the bed. During dinner, neither really said anything. Jun had been starving, although he didn’t complain. He just scarfed down three bowls like it was first meal in days-- and Masami could only wonder if it was. She’d wanted to ask again when he had eaten last, but didn’t. There wasn’t anything she could do about it now, except be angry... and she wasn’t sure if Jun would appreciate that or think she was pitying him. He didn’t seem the kind to want pity, considering how he had yet to complain about the crazy-small box, his sore body, or his hunger and thirst. He didn’t even mention he had to go the bathroom, but rather found it himself while Masami was fixing dinner. When she saw him scuffling gingerly by, she nearly smacked herself in the head for not realizing he’d have to pee after being trapped in a box all day.

After doing one last quick scan to make sure all of her underwear was shoved safely in the drawer, she went back for Jun. She’d coaxed him to relax on the couch again while she made sure the bedroom was suitable, because he was definitely getting the bed that night. She wasn’t sure how it would work in the future -- maybe they’d trade off -- but after spending a good chunk of a day in a box, he got the bed. New rule. He heard her approaching and turned to look at her, and there was a moment that Masami thought his expression looked weary, but he smoothed it over and a small, close-lipped smile took its place. She wished she could guess what he was thinking, but she figured that maybe he’d talk more tomorrow. Masami didn’t even want to imagine what it must have been like stuck inside that box, and looking at him during dinner, she realized that it wouldn’t have been impossible for him to break out of it. It had been sealed with packing tape, but Jun looked like a man that could rip through that, and probably more, if he wanted to. The black tee did little to conceal the lean, yet defined muscles of his upper body, not to mention his arms.. So why had he remained in the box for hours? It must have been dark, too, sitting in the entryway. Why hadn’t he broken free? Had he thought his new “Lady” would punish him if he wasn’t in the box? The man must possess a great deal of restraint, Masami decided.

“You don’t have to go to sleep yet or anything, but the bed is ready for you when you want it. There’s a T.V. in there, too, but I also have quite a few books if you feel like read..ing,” Masami’s face turned red as she stumbled over the last word. “I know how to read,” Jun said, sounding a little annoyed, “I’m not young enough to have been taken as a child. They got me at 22.” “I’m sorry,” Masami replied quickly.

 

Jun could feel his face heating up to match this Nagasawa-san’s. He couldn’t believe he’d told her when he was taken, or that he’d spoken to his new mistress that way. Stupid, Jun. Stupid. He’d rather die than go back to living in the low-slave barracks-- and if he didn’t please this girl, that’s exactly where he’d be heading. He had to make her adore him. He upped the wattage of his smile, and softened his tone, “So you were saying something about taking me to bed?” “What? Oh, um...” the young woman’s cheeks were scorching red now, and inwardly, Jun sort of liked her nervousness. It was refreshing, he decided. He ignored the odd niggling feeling he got in his chest when she’d wanted him to lean on her for support, or when she’d rushed to make him dinner. He wasn’t used to it, and whatever the feeling was, he was sure he didn’t like it. A woman making up the bed for him-- that was an activity he was used to.

 

The way that Jun’s expression went from guarded to annoyed to dazzling freaked Masami out. The progression didn’t make sense, and she felt like she was missing something. She definitely had the feeling that the only honest moment was when he was annoyed, so it really bothered her that she couldn’t seem to keep her heartbeat under control when he smiled. Even though she was fairly sure it was fake, her body reacted. It wasn’t right.

“Yes, I’ll take you to the bedroom now,” Masami muttered, then watched as Jun stood up slowly, still sore but apparently feeling better after a few pain pills and some time to stretch. She offered to let him lean on her again, but he just shook his head and took her hand instead. Masami shivered, and was immediately embarrassed by it. Why couldn’t she keep it together? She barely knew him, and she had always been rather good at staying cool when it comes to men-- because while dating is allowed at the Keep, marriage just gives them another means to hurt you and keep you or your spouse longer. Even an overly serious relationship could put your lover in peril. Masami had never deemed any man worth the risk. Not that she was thinking of romantic relationships. She definitely was not.

Jun’s long fingers curled around her smaller hand and gently pulled her along towards the bedroom. He was moving slowly, but Masami let him lead her. Once they reached the doorway, she slipped away from him and gestured to her bed. “It’s nothing much,” she told him, slightly apologetic.

The bed was a full-size, unadorned with a simple pale yellow comforter. “It’s enough,” Jun was purring again, throwing Masami even further off guard. He crawled languidly across the bed to lounge on the far side and look at her, the small smile reappearing on his perfect face. Masami wasn’t sure how to breach the topic of you-don’t-have-to-keep-pretending-you-want-me, so instead, she tossed the remote at him and fled.

He called after her, insinuating something inappropriate, but she just ignored him and went over to the crawl space to get the futon. Masami had the thing about halfway out of the little door, and was struggling because it had unrolled and was now threatening not to fit. She knew she should just push it back in, crawl in there and re-roll it... “What are you doing?” Jun’s voice suddenly behind her made Masami jump. “You should be relaxing or sleeping or something,” Masami muttered in response, tugging even harder. This Jun was going to wreck havoc on her nerves.

“I spent enough time not moving today. Aren’t you going to join me?” Masami heard the implication in his words, but chose to ignore them. Obviously, they were going to have to breach the stopping-the-act issue tomorrow, because he just wasn’t going get it otherwise. “Sure, just give me a minute,” she told him as she gave the futon another hard tug, “Just as soon as I get this thing out of here.” “My lady, please allow me,” Jun said while kneeling down and effectively moving her aside. With two hands gripping it, he pulled hard twice before it came flopping onto him. “Oh,” he sounded slightly surprised, as if he hadn’t realized what it was, “I do not require a futon, my lady. If you do not wish for me to share your bed, I would be fine with the couch.”

“Jun. It’s not for you. I told you, you’re sleeping in the bed tonight. It’s for me, and I’d rather sleep on it than the couch,” Masami told him quickly before adding, “And I thought I told you not to call me that.” Jun’s eyes were as round as saucers at her words, and Masami’s eyebrows quirked a little in confusion.

The man blinked, shook his head a little as if to clear it, then said quietly as a coldness washed over his eyes, “My lady, you need not worry your possession requires special treatment after its being delivered in a box. Your new... slave is perfectly capable of performing.” “Jun,” Masami muttered, and she wondered briefly if her cheeks would ever not be flushing when she was near him, “This isn’t special treatment. This is just the right thing to do. I don’t want you to ‘perform,’ either.”


End file.
